


The Ballad of Stiles' Shirt

by Nny



Series: Month 1: Quantity (tumblr fic) [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, M/M, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Shirtless Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-06-09
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:18:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1761643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nny/pseuds/Nny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isaac bets Scott he can get Stiles' shirt off within a week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ballad of Stiles' Shirt

"Ten bucks," Isaac said, and Derek slowed his pace a little, curious at the quiet tone of his voice.

"By the end of the week?" Scott said. "Ha, no way. There is no _way_. You manage it I'll give you fifty."

"You are such an easy mark," Isaac said.

"Nothing physical though," Scott said, and his voice was low and serious and stern. "Nothing that could hurt him."

"I promise not to break your pet human."

Derek frowned, and sped up a little, but when he got to the clearing they'd gone.

1.

The bits of the window that would open were open; the bits of the window that were broken had the boards that usually covered them laid temporarily aside. There was pretty good cross-ventilation, all in all, and Stiles kept closing his eyes and lifting his face into the breeze, stretching his neck in a way that was in no way distracting Derek from his book.

The point was it was probably cooler in Derek's loft than it was outside, so there was really no need for Isaac to come in, trailed by Scott, and promptly strip his shirt over his head.

"Man, it is hot in here," he said, loud and obnoxious after the peace of the afternoon. Derek shot him a glare. Undeterred, Isaac grabbed a soda from the fridge and pressed the can against the side of his face. "It is seriously hot," he repeated. "Stiles, aren't you hot?"

Stiles looked up, one long finger sliding down to hold his page, and quirked an eyebrow.

"Nah," he said. "I'm good here."

Scott shot Isaac a weirdly triumphant look, then flopped onto the couch beside Stiles and started in on an argument they were clearly already half way through, full of unfinished sentences and flailing gestures and inexplicable laughter and wrestling. Derek resented it.

The noise, that is.

*

2.

"It's not going to work," Scott was saying downstairs, as Derek made his way to the stairs, tugging his shirt down and trying to smooth the 'bed' out of his hair.

"It's a classic for a reason," Isaac said, and there was a thump as he jumped down from whatever he'd been doing. Derek had a bad feeling about this.

"Hey - " Stiles' voice, far off but getting closer. "What was so urgent you guys couldn't - "

There was a yelp, and a clatter, and Derek jumped the last few steps, rounding the curve of the staircase to see Scott with his hand slapped across his mouth, Isaac not even trying to hide his laughter, Stiles standing in the doorway and drenched to the skin. The bucket that had clearly been balanced on top of the door was rolling across the floor with a sad _gloing gloing gloing_. Derek’s eyes skipped downwards without his permission, to where the wet fabric clung lovingly to Stiles’ skin, and he swallowed, hard.

“What the hell,” he said, looking up to meet the betrayed look on Stiles’ face.

“Sorry,” Isaac said. “You wanna borrow one of my shirts?”

Stiles shot him a glower that could practically strip skin from bone - Derek was reluctantly impressed by it, actually - and spun on his heel, clattering down the stairs and slamming the door behind him when he reached the bottom. A couple of minutes later the familiar sound of the jeep’s engine rumbled into life, and Derek’s glare at Isaac and Scott could maybe even have rivalled Stiles’.

“Great,” he heard Scott mutter later, in the kitchen, where they’d taken refuge. “Not coming back. He’s going to be pissy about this for days, now.”

“At least he’s not pissy about it here,” Isaac said, unconcerned and crunching on something.

“I didn’t mean Stiles,” Scott said.

*

3.

" _Seriously_ , Isaac?"

"Shit, sorry, Stiles. Look, here, take mine."

"There is something wrong with you."

Stiles came marching out of the kitchen, a long line of ketchup crossing his shirt and spattered across his collarbones and his neck. Derek's mouth watered.

"Clothes," Stiles demanded.

"Upstairs," Derek said. "Duffel at the end of the bed."

"Hobo."

"Laundry day."

Stiles clattered up the staircase and crashed around for a bit before heading back down, one of Derek's black shirts tight across his shoulders and baggy everywhere else. He headed over to the couch and squeezed in next to Derek, uncomfortably warm against his arm.

"Protect me from the condimonsters," he said, grumpy and distracting and smelling faintly of Derek and ketchup, which was sending all sorts of confusing messages to Derek's brain. Basically they involved licking.

"Ha!" Isaac said, in the kitchen. "Pay up."

"Doesn't count," Scott said. "No skin."

Derek was seriously starting to worry about those two.

*

4.

"Soccer players do it," Isaac said defensively.

"Okay, no," Stiles said. "First, there is no way I want your sweaty shirt against my seriously non-sweaty bod. Second, said bod has remained non-sweaty due to the fact I wasn't even playing - it was one-on-one, idiot. Third, soccer? Not even a real sport."

"Hey," Derek said easily, not stirring from where he was sprawled on the sun-warm grass.

"Nil-nil is not a valid score," Stiles said, picking up exactly where they'd left off the evening before.

Scott gave them a weird look.

*

5.

"You're sure Stiles is okay?" Isaac asked in a low voice. "He keeps - " he bent over a little, wrapped an arm around his stomach, mimed a wince.

Derek spun on his heel, headed back for where Scott and Stiles were talking. Nothing looked wrong, but there was no way he was going to risk -

"...what the _hell_? Get off me, you Neanderthal!"

Derek ignored him, yanking his shirt out of the way so he could run his palm across Stiles' pale stomach.

"You're okay," he said, not even allowing it to be a question.

"Of course I'm okay," Stiles said, eyes wide.

"- if anything," Scott was saying, "Derek won," but Derek was more interested in the way Stiles' pulse had just skyrocketed; in the slow flush that was washing across the skin under his hand.

He looked up, deliberately met Stiles' eyes, and licked his lips.

*

+1.

"...Okay," Isaac said faintly. "Derek won."

"My _eyes_ ," Scott moaned.

**Author's Note:**

> I can be found on tumblr [here](http://villainny.tumblr.com), come say hi!


End file.
